


Gypsy Death and You

by July



Series: Gun in Their Face, the Cash in Their Hand [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-09
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 20:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/507609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/July/pseuds/July
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to "Two-Dollar Love". The story of Vriska and Eridan and how they became a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dirty Boots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyeslikestarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikestarlight/gifts).



“So what did you ask for?”

Vriska exhaled a thick cloud of smoke held in her lungs for the perfect amount of time. Eight seconds. “Those boots,” she mumbled in response, nodding towards her closet. She brought the joint to her lips and inhaled to her chest’s full capacity before turning it over to the one next to her. She counted in her head, eight, seven, six–

“Nice. Are you gonna break them in before we’re ready to go?”

–two, three, one, exhale. “Probably. Just another goddamn week and I’m gone.” She was slumped against the wall, sitting upright on her bed, Terezi flat on her back, knees bent. They were cousins, though not closely related, something like third or fourth. Growing up together had them close enough to consider each other close family.

“Have you told your Mom yet?” Vriska chuckled at Terezi who was grinning widely, something she often did, and a trait they both shared.

“I still have to write a note. I’ll just stick with that.”

Terezi took one last hit before passing it back to Vriska. She didn’t hold her smoke for quite as long. “Oh, so the classic, ‘Hey Mom, I’m leaving you forever to join some cutthroat gang of drug dealers and thugs. Your little girl is living a life of crime now, please don’t send the cops after me.’ Always a good way to go.”

Vriska glared, her lips pressing together into a hard line. “What did you do, then?”

“My dad didn’t give a shit, remember? Plus, I was of age, so it didn’t matter. You, however, have a whole year to worry.”

It was her birthday, November 1st. In one week, she would be whisked off by her cousin to join the Carson City branch of organized criminals known as The Scratch. At the tender age of seventeen, she was running away from her current life of suburban doldrums and high school boredom. She wanted a new life, and it was finally time to escape. She had known of her cousin’s gang for some time, trying her best to join them since she was fifteen. They had not considered her at the time, despite her having a mean streak a mile wide and burning ambition. Now that she was seventeen, and having a recent split in partnered members, there was a new opportunity.

“I know who you’ll be paired up with, or at least two possible people.”

“It’s not you?” she asked innocently.

“Oh, god no. Conflict of interest for one thing, plus me and Gamzee work together just fine. I can only tell you their names are Angel Fish and Black Magic.”

Vriska scoffed. “What kind of fucked up names do they give you there?”

She giggled, taking back the weed, which was almost dwindled down to its end. “Well, Gamzee gives them to us. Except his was given to him a while ago, and so was mine, by someone else.”

“Oh, so you’re the infamous Liberty and Justice duo are you? So ironic.” Vriska smiled, crossing her arms behind her head. Nicknames were given to new initiates on their first day, usually based off something instantly recognizable on their person. Terezi had been in law school when she joined three years ago, earning her title of “Justice”. Vriska could only imagine what her name would be when she met the hideout leader called Liberty. She had been told he was something of a loose cannon, and appeared to never take his position seriously. Apparently he was doing a fine job of it, though. Vriska only hoped her new name wouldn’t be something as stupid as Angel Fish or Black Magic.

“What are their real names?” she asked conversely.

“I can’t tell you that. Sometimes people are protective of that information, and I really don’t know about them. In this business, sometimes it’s best not to get too attached. And sometimes they just want to forget their birth names.”

Her heart almost skipped at Terezi’s last statement. To forget her name, to ignore her past life and to start completely fresh? She hadn’t thought about it, but the idea was suddenly appealing to her. Suddenly she was even more anxious to leave.

The following week could not have moved slower. Vriska went to school each day, forgoing her normal schedule of cutting class at any chance she got. She knew that once she left, people would be looking for her. It was different for Terezi when she skipped home, since hardly anybody cared about her enough to look for her. She left a simple note to her negligent father, “Goodbye and fuck you,” and that was it. Vriska was sure her parents would be worried sick, her school concerned with police scouring the state in search for her. She had to admit the thought of disappearing completely from people’s lives was a frightening one. She would be gone without an explanation, the very prospect of her existence in question; it would be worse than her suddenly dying in the night. She would just be a girl whom may or may not be alive, never to be found again. As much as it pained her to do it to those around her, nothing would stop her. Real life was much too dull.

She asked Terezi if she should fake her own death, but it would be too difficult. With a snicker followed by a sympathetic gaze, she explained how it would be nearly impossible to even use a fake body as her own. She heard of it done successfully once when someone burned down a building and tore out a couple of their teeth to plant in the ashen remains for dental records. It only lasted a short while as CSI found other evidence.

When the day finally came for them to leave, Vriska hadn’t even left a note to her parents. Papers were left crumpled up in her waste bin with scrawled excuses and half-poetic claims of her needing to “find herself” elsewhere. It was all bullshit.

“You know, you can always go back and wait another year until you’re legal,” Terezi mumbled as she turned a corner downtown. They were only a few blocks from the hideout.

“No,” Vriska sighed, rolling up the window as they pulled into an alley barely big enough to fit the car. She slung her bag over her shoulder that contained her bare essentials: a couple changes of clothes, notebook, hairbrush, contacts, tampons... Whatever she could stuff in the backpack would be her life. Terezi mentioned she would have to get used to wearing the same clothing a few days in a row if she was ever on the run. The door was painted gray like the side of the building. Her cousin punched a code into the keypad next to the handle, a green light blinking and two tiny beeps afterward. She walked with Vriska into the small, dark hallway and down a flight of stairs. The place smelled musty and damp, and Vriska had a feeling she didn’t want to know what the walls looked like. Finally another door, which also required a code, and they walked into a dimly illuminated room. The walls and floors were made of metal, and all around were lanterns with flickering candles in them.

“What, is there no electricity here?” Vriska asked, unimpressed.

“No, Gamzee must be into a ‘mood lighting’ mode.”

The entire room was cold and empty, though the damp smell was no more. In the middle sat an empty desk with only a laptop upon it. Behind the desk was another hallway with three doors on either side. The first door on the left opened and out walked a tall, lean but well built man. His hair was amiss, the shaggy locks falling almost to his shoulders. Vriska crossed her arms, watching the man as he waved to Terezi, gesturing for the two to come over.

“Liberty,” she greeted him before resting her hands on the edge of his desk.

“And motherfucking Justice,” he answered, flopping down into the chair of the desk. Vriska could see now that his eyes were bloodshot. He reeked of pot. “What can I do for you and your best motherfucking cousin over here?”

“You know what we want, Gamzee,” she teased. “She’s ready to be suited up. Who have you picked for her?”

The man let out a loud laugh, slouching back in his chair. “Holler in that Magic motherfucker for me, I don’t know this speaker intercom shit.” He gestured to the empty desk, probably expecting there to be a phone or sound system.

“We don’t have any speaker intercom shit,” Terezi said patiently, taking out her phone and quickly sending a text. “I guess he’s here?”

“Yeah, bro.” Gamzee continued to smile, Vriska becoming annoyed. This was the face of the most notorious gang in the Western United States? Maybe she should just go back home...

A door opened from the end of the hallway, the hinges shrieking loudly.

“The fuck? I am busy!” the man yelled, slumping down towards Gamzee with an irritated look on his face. His eyes immediately locked on Vriska, and she felt her face heat up in anger as soon as she stared back. Already she knew she wasn’t going to like this guy. He wore thick-framed glasses, his hair dark brown, a purple tank top and black jeans. His eyes were grey, and he had a long, thin nose that had obviously been broken in the past. He had the features of a villain. His limbs didn’t look overly muscular, with only slight tone visible beneath pale flesh. Judging by his first sentence, he was English, though the tattoo on his bicep of the elongated lion on the Royal Arms was a dead giveaway.

“You gonna tell me who this is?” he said in a bored tone.

“Your new partner, best bro!” Gamzee slapped him on the back, making him stumble slightly.

“What, her? You giving me a new initiate? That’s unnecessarily cruel, Gam, you know how intense things got with me and Fef!”

Terezi laughed. “Yeah, only because you messed something up. Look, somebody needs to train her, just think of her as a protegé.”

Vriska raised an eyebrow at her cousin, crossing her arms. “I’m not anyone’s protegé! I can handle myself fine.”

All three laughed, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Terezi put a hand around her shoulders, and pulled her close into a sort of hug. “Listen, everybody was new here at one point. You’re going to need him.”

“What’s your name, anyway?” Vriska asked the English man.

“Black Magic,” Gamzee answered. “Motherfucker came in all Harry Potter and D&D his first time, he liked all that weird occult shit.”

Black Magic rolled his eyes. “I’m fuckin’ Harry Potter because of the glasses and accent, right? I don’t care to disclose my real name, alright? And what about you?”

Vriska bit her lip, looking down at the ground.

“Gamzee, what’s her new name?”

There was a silence as Gamzee looked at her up and down; Vriska could practically hear the gears in his head turning. “I like that belt buckle, looking all cool and holding your pants up at the same time. Great shit, belts.”

She glanced down, seeing her favourite 8-ball belt buckle sitting slightly to the side.

“She has a thing for the number eight,” Terezi mumbled.

A ridiculously wide grin spread across Gamzee’s face. “Crazy motherfucking Eights,” he said.

All eyes were on Vriska and she shrugged, casually brushing off the name though she did think it was cool. “Sure, I guess that works.”

Her cousin smiled, giving her a pat on the back. “Great! Welcome to the family. Now Liberty, we have a little job for these new partners don’t we?”

“We most certainly do, bro. Should give you two some bonding time to get to know each other and shit. You’re going to your best place, Magic, motherfucking Vegas!”


	2. Dull Life

Eridan hadn’t wiped the glare off his face since he first laid eyes on her. Terezi had given him a little bit of information on her younger cousin, but barely anything to justify why he agreed to be her partner. The only reason why he said yes was because he would have been an idiot to argue with Gamzee. The man may have been high and mellow all the time, but to cross him was a death wish. The reason he smoked so often was because if he didn’t, he was prone to bouts of intense rage that seemed to start for no reason at all. It was the reason why he was called Liberty; when sober, he was the embodiment of a free spirit unbound and without limitations. He was liberated from a conscience.

He walked next to the new recruit, Crazy Eights, down a few blocks from the hideout to where his car was parked. They had a simple first job, however, it was a bit of a hassle, and the perfect start for someone like her. He entertained himself with the thought of her reaction to the details of the mission. He knew everything about the job, and was sure to let her believe it was relatively safe.

Compared to his usual work, it was.

“Ready to leave boring-as-fuck Carson City?” he asked conversely, but putting on his most bored-sounding voice.

“I guess,” she mumbled back, pushing her hair back behind her ear.

She was seventeen. Apparently Gamze was letting anyone in these days, which was rather telling of the organization’s condition. That, and the fact that the sum of money contained in the briefcase was much smaller than usual. It contained one hundred thousand dollars for their client that evening.

“So, explain to me exactly what we’re doing?” she asked as Eridan pulled out his car keys. He unlocked the doors of the red sedan, tossing the case in the back.

“Basically,” he began, sitting in the driver’s seat as she took the passenger’s. “All we’re doing is taking that cash to a drug dealer who’s partying hard in Vegas. Gamzee’s also got us outfits because apparently there’s a dress code for this shit. Our guy’s splurging on the V.I.P. room apparently, which is odd, since he’s a cheap bastard. When you do a job like this, you get cash for expenses, so that’s in there. God knows Gamzee can’t afford to be throwing his money around like he does, but whatever, and I think there’s a fake ID for you as well.”

She considered in, shrugging. “Seems simple. What’s the catch?”

A grin spread across Eridan’s face. “You’ll find out.”

“What?” The car started and stared at him, eyes blazing. “What are you not telling me?”

“Open the glove compartment,” he said slyly.

She complied and took out the object that drew the most attention. She placed the pistol on her lap, studying it. “It’s a gun.”

“Good observation.” He rounded the corner out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Specifically my old partner’s gun. It’s your responsibility now.”

She frowned, opening the slide to find it fully loaded. “I don’t have to kill anyone, do I?” She attempted to pass the question off in a casual tone, but he heard the waver of uncertainty in her voice. He tried not to smile.

“You shouldn’t have to. Not today.” Eridan licked his lips, trying to remember the right way to the highway.

“It’s nice,” she said passively.

“Can you even fire one of those?”

She laughed harshly, the first sign of emotion he had seen from her. “Please. This is Nevada. I was signed up for shooting practice as soon as I was able to stand.”

Impressive. “Okay, fine, just asking!”

“I guess you wouldn’t have that sort of thing where you’re from.” Eights was grinning, eerily reminiscent of Terezi, though slightly less maniacal. No wonder they were related. “No nation-wide obsession with firearms? Or is it a rooty-tooty-point-and-shooty?”

He smirked. “Funny. Think I liked you better when you were quiet.”

The highway was fast approaching, and Crazy Eights was once again silent. As much as he didn’t care to engage in conversation topics beyond that of business, he was rapidly growing bored.

“I’ll admit, Ms. Eights, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do in regards to ‘training’.”

“Obviously. It would be nice to know exactly the plan, here. Everyone seems to know but me.”

“Okay. First is that Gamzee never gives anybody a real plan. Not even a suggestion or guidelines or what not to do. At some point, there were rules, but in case you haven’t figured it out, we’re not in the best shape. This is why you have been let in, I can only assume.”

“Thanks. Not because I’m capable or anything.”

“You’re underage, you’re a liability. I’m guessing you’re running away?”

“Yeah. Look, why don’t you tell me what you do have figured out? What were the rules that have been so willfully neglected?”

Eridan bit his lip, honestly trying to recall the days when order existed in his world. “Depending on the job, there was always the restriction of being able to kill someone or not. Either you were allowed to kill as many bloody people as you wanted, or you got in shit for laying a finger on someone. Nowadays, there’s nothing about that. It’s totally vague. Rely on your morality or something. Rule number two, and I guess it’s still enforced, is don’t let any shit get between you and your partner.”

Eights snickered beside him. He was now driving on the Veteran’s Memorial Highway, driving a shameless ten miles over the limit. “But aren’t most people screwing each other?”

“His face was stony, trying to remain level-headed. “Yeah, you’re right about that. That’s always been fine, provided you don’t have some stupid breakup.”

“Is that why you’re not with your old partner?”

He didn’t answer, his ears turning red from anger and embarrassment. Somehow he knew she would bring that up. The way she laughed told him all about her, that she was a cocky, faux-rebellious wannabe who would be traumatized for life before the first objective was complete. And it was his job to protect her. Fuck.

“Don’t you want to know about our client?”

“Not really.”

“Sure you don’t. One of the most important and powerful dealers in the country? The pay of a hundred grand is one of the lowest he’s ever received from us.”

Eights didn’t respond, staring outside the window, and he was expecting any second for her to force a fake yawn. “Look, it’s a seven hour drive to Vegas, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact I’m not going home. Can we just not talk for a bit?”

Eridan nodded, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He reached over to the radio dials, turning up the volume. The highway was empty as cruised along. They continued that way for at least an hour, and right when Eridan was getting used to the awkward silence, she spoke.

“What’s your story?”

“My story about what?”

“How you fell in with this crowd, dumbass.” She was looking at him, irritated. He leered back.

“What makes you think I’m gonna tell you any of that?”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Because I’m bored, and if this is the arrangement we’re stuck with forever, why not skip the bullshit gaining each other’s trust thing. Clearly you’re lonely.”

He sighed, caving into her request as he gathered his memories, the ones he wished he didn’t hold onto. “I skipped the country when I was eighteen. Everything in my paperwork was forged, since I had no real reason to immigrate. For a country so obsessed with foreigners, you sure get lazy sometimes.”

“It’s because you’re white.”

“I still have a funny accent. Usually there’s an aversion to all that shit.”

“So you’re a runaway, too, huh?”

“Yeah. When I was fourteen, my parents died and I was put in foster care. Miserable life. Lived in East London between flats full of junkies and whores. I started hanging round them, learning all their seedy ways. As soon as I was free, I came here, and quickly fell in with the gang. They actually had a fucking recruiting day, and that’s about it.”

Eights nodded, seemingly mulling his story over in her mind. She hesitated before beginning. “I just got bored. Well, I’ve always been bored with life. Too picture perfect out here, you know?”

Eridan shrugged in agreement. “So you want a little adventure? Most people just travel.”

“I never wanted to do good, either.” Eights reached into her pocket, pulling out a brand new pack of cigarettes. She peeled off the plastic wrapping and shoved it in her pocket. “You smoke?”

“Yeah.” He took one of the fresh cigarettes from the offered pack and took out his lighter, sparking it with one hand. With the windows rolled down, the grey clouds didn’t stay in the car, being sucked into the open air blowing past them. Somehow Eridan knew all twenty cigarettes would be smoked long before they got to Sin City.


	3. Viva Las Vegas

The garish lights from the Strip were visible far in the distance as Vriska leaned against the car at the gas station. She stared at her phone, typing in a quick message to Terezi saying they had made it okay. Magic was arguing with the attendant over the legitimacy of his credit card when he tried to pay for gas. She looked up to see Magic subtly giving the kid a view of his gun tucked into the waist of his jeans. She smirked as the argument ceased immediately, and he walked back over to Vriska, fuming.

“Fucking idiot,” he growled and glanced to the back seat. “We should get changed now, if you want to go ahead.” He opened the door, reaching in for the brief case and undoing the clips. Sitting on top of the cash were two black plastic bags with the gold logo of some boutique back in town. They were labeled with “Motherfucking Magic” and “Justice’s Cousin” in juvenile-looking handwriting, each followed by a “:o)”. He handed her a package, and she felt at the material inside. There were shoes, definitely high heels, and she hoped Gamzee had somehow gotten information on her sizes for the outfit. She was prepared to wear her Converse with whatever dress the maniac had picked out no matter how stupid it made her look. She walked away without a word to the building of the station. A surly-looking girl at the counter reluctantly gave her the bathroom key.

She gave herself a quick look in the grungy mirror. The bathroom wasn’t halfway disgusting, but she just wanted to get changed as quickly as possible. She opened up the black bag, looking inside. There was a bold blue dress with matching shoes and a little clutch purse, okay, not bad. Pulling out the dress, however, her expression turned to horror. Blue fucking sequins and there was no way that thing would be covering up enough. Was this a fucking joke? It had to be some elaborate cover. No, this was not how tourists dressed in Vegas. She was going to look like a tart, this was not the plan.

Her fingers flew across the keys of her phone as she called Magic out in the parking lot. He answered immediately.

“What?” came his gruff tone.

“I am not fucking wearing this,” she snapped back.

“Huh? Why? What’s going on?”

“I’m going to look like a slut, how the hell is this a good idea?”

He laughed on the other end and she felt her heart pound in rage. “You do understand that’s probably the point, right? This is Las Vegas, trust me, nobody will think anything of it.”

“It’s fucking gross is what it is.”

“Look, just wear it, you can burn it later.” He hung up his phone right before she was about to belt out a string of curses. She looked back at the dress and sighed dramatically to herself. She quickly stripped off her current clothes and pulled on the dress to find it fit her figure just fine, which was odd. She was tall, so the dress was even shorter on her frame, wrapping tightly around her wide hips and just covering her ass. Luckily there was a pair of pantyhose stuffed inside one of the pumps. It was marginally better. The shoes gave her at least an extra four inches of height, though she wobbled for a moment before getting used to them. Shoving her other clothes into the bag, she turned towards the door, storming past the counter girl before charging toward Magic by the car. Even from across the lot, she could see his eyebrows rise.

“Not bad,” he mumbled, his eyes looking her up and down. She shoved him over, struggling to resist the urge to punch him before tossing her bag through the back window.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” she seethed, getting the passenger’s seat as he strode off to the building to change. She watched him, strutting with a confident gait as he was probably finding her situation hilarious. Though she had to admit he looked good from that angle...

She tried to adjust the hem of her dress as she sat down, trying to show as little leg as possible. Inside her purse was white plastic card, a fake driver’s license. Her student card picture from the previous school year took the place of her photo ID. Obviously Terezi had gotten a hold of it. She didn’t want to know how. She glared at the name printed on it: “Betsy Crocker”. Yeah, that was a convincing name. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back with a sigh. How did she get here again? But it was not a mistake. She could be back at home, listening to her mother, or doing homework, or talking to her idiot friends online. Things would be looking up soon.

“I wouldn’t feel so bad, you know.”

Magic was back and standing outside the car.

“If you’re so concerned about looking like a whore, well, I guess I’m your pimp.”

Vriska looked up to see Magic getting in the car, her eyes widening at Gamzee’s choice of outfit for him. He was dressed in what looked like a pinstriped violet silk suit, complete with pinstripes and the optional fedora tucked under his arm. She tried not to laugh as he fixed his tie, a matching purple one that sat against a black dress shirt.

“I should have warned you about Gamzee’s ‘taste’,” Magic grumbled as she started the car again. “I doubt this was intentional, this is just what he really thinks is appropriate.”

“If you try to sell me to some businessman, I will fucking kill you.” Her voice failed to sound threatening, shaking with suppressed laughter. Magic couldn’t help but smile, either. As soon as he glanced over, they both erupted in fits of giggles. The lights were coming closer on the horizon, and Vriska felt an unusual wave of excitement for the first time that day. Their first mission was right there. It had been a long time since she had felt such a sense of pride in herself, in her life. Maybe things weren’t so horrible after all.

Magic said if all went well, they would be taking the same car back to Carson City the next day. After searching for a parking spot for what seemed like ages, the two were shoving past the sea of sweaty, eager bodies brimming with excitement over blowing all their cash. Vriska had her backpack slung over her shoulder, her other hand constantly tugging down at the hem of her dress. Magic was shoving people out of his way, and soon enough they found the front doors of the large green hotel. Inside was just as hectic as the street outside. The strong smell of alcohol and air freshener made Vriska crinkle her nose. Surprisingly, there was no line at the check-in desk as Magic marched right up to one of the clerks. Vriska followed closely, listening to the conversation.

“Reservation for Mr. Black, please,” he said quickly, unfolding papers and handing them to the woman behind the desk. She stopped to stare at him for a moment, tripping over her words as she typed into her computer. He flirted back with her, and Vriska rolled her eyes. It was sickening while he flirted back, and she hooked her arm around his, forcing a sweet smile.

“Ready to go, dear?” Her voice cut clearly through the haze of noise around them. The receptionist’s expression faded to fear as she handed over the keys, Vriska never breaking eye contact. Magic quickly scrawled a signature across the paperwork, but he looked back at the woman who was absent-mindedly fixing her hair.

“One more thing,” he said lowly, clearly annoyed with Vriska, pulling his arm away from her grip. “We’re meeting with Yellowbelly, if you could tell him we’re coming up.”

The colour drained from the woman’s face, and her hands began to tremble. She went for the phone, knocking over the receiver and scrambling to pick it up again. She punched in some numbers, waiting for an answer.

“Mr. Captor, there’s someone here to see you.” She bit her lip nervously. “Uh... Um, Mr. Black, sir.” She listened intently and put the phone down. “He’ll see you right away, the top penthouse floor.” Magic stalked off without a word to the bank of elevators.

“The hell was that about?” he growled at Vriska, crossing his arms as he pressed the button for the penthouse. It flashed red for a moment before turning green, signaling their client’s approval.

“Fuck, you were making me sick,” she replied, laughing. The ride up was spent in uncomfortable silence as Vriska continuously shifted her weight to each foot, uncomfortable in her shoes. The ride took a long time, with people getting on and off at each floor, but the doors finally opened to the top floor. No doubt Magic was used to lavish hotel rooms, but Vriska had to stop herself from gasping at the setup. Even with all the decadent displays, their attention was focused on the lone figure standing in the middle of the open layout, staring out the glass wall overlooking the Strip.

“Do you have my money?” he asked without turning around. The mysterious Yellowbelly was slender in physique, but not exceptionally tall, with styled messy hair. He wore a plain gray suit, but his shoes were peculiarly mismatched, one white, one black.

“No, we don’t, we just decided to pop by, Sollux,” Magic answered sarcastically, stepping into the room and letting his shoes hit the floorboards loudly. Sollux turned around, raising his eyebrows as he let out a laugh.

“Please tell me GZ picked those out for you, I might just die.” He spoke with an exaggerated lisp on his S’s, mouth full of overly large teeth. Magic rolled his eyes as the other began to approach him, eyes on the suitcase. His eyes were shielded by a pair of dark sunglasses which he removed as he looked at Vriska. His eyes were also mismatched, one a dark brown, the other a pale blue. “Who’s this? Did Angel ditch you once and for all?”

“We had a mutual disagreement and decided it was best to part ways.” Magic’s jaw tightened, attempting to remain confident. Sollux only laughed.

“So she dumped your ass. Who’s the new meat?”

Both of them looked at her, expecting a response. She stammered at first, trying to remember she was no longer called Vriska. “Crazy Eights.”

Sollux put his glasses back on, looking unimpressed. “So they stuck you with someone new they just plucked off the streets? As much as you suck, Black, I wouldn’t have gone with that.”

“Huh. Thanks,” Vriska sneered.

“Not important, hand over the cash, I need to pay for this party tonight. Come have a drink, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Sollux grinned as Magic handed over the cash, turning away towards the full bad near the kitchen area.

“You’re a multi-millionaire drug lord and you need some petty cash to pay for a party?”

“And there’s about five dollars in my wallet, I do not carry cash, you know this, ED.” He got behind the bar, facing the pair only to see the grave expression on Magic’s face. “Oh, right, I’m not supposed to say your name, am I?”

“You aren’t supposed to _know_ it, but fine. Double vodka, no ice. And since when do you throw parties?”

“Well,” Sollux started, ducking down behind the counter for a glass. “I am getting married tomorrow.” He got back up, taking the bottle of Absolut and guessing the amount of a double shot. “It’s at four tomorrow, you’re welcome to come. Any interaction between AA’s parents and myself should prove entertaining. But let’s not worry about that right now, we need to talk business.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You are going to love this..."


	4. The Daily Grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some amendments to the first story: Karkat isn't police chief, he's just a constable.
> 
> I'm also not using their typing quirks since it's real life and they're grown-ass adults.

“Look, I don’t give a shit what you do on a shift because I know for a fact that all you two do is stand there scratching your asses all day, but for fuck’s sakes, can you just fill your quotas? Is the bare minimum that fucking unattainable?”

Constable Karkat Vantas glared at the two officers in front of him. Both were no longer rookies, each banking at least five years on the force, so he couldn’t believe he was having this talk with them. He always knew Egbert was nothing short of a moron, and Strider a pompous lay about, but he was not expecting a complete lack of given parking tickets from either of them. Neither had made an arrest in weeks, and they were only pulling over maybe one speeder a day. It wasn’t just them; the entire force had been slipping ever since a certain someone had temporarily moved into town. He always hated when Sollux came to visit Sin City; it was like everyone was scared of him.

Not surprisingly it was Strider’s excuse.

“Hey man, you never know when you’re going to piss off one of Captor’s goons,” he said casually, adding a shrug. Karkat stared straight at him, trying to find his eyes behind his stupid reflective aviators.

“For the last fucking time, Captor has no goons.” Karkat sighed and flopped down in the chair behind his desk, rubbing his eyes out of exhaustion. “He barely has a posse. He may be a big scary crime lord, but he’s horribly inexperienced and unorganized. The only reason he has what he has is because he could press a few buttons on a computer and instantly become a millionaire.”

“That’s impossible,” John scoffed, crossing his arms.

“If you could press buttons and have no common sense it would be. No, he’s smart. He’s a retard, but he’s smart.” Karkat sat upright in his chair, opening one of the drawers on his desk and searching through the mass of supplies for a single pen. He began to scribble down some notes on a scrap piece of paper he would inevitably lose amidst the piles on his desk. “I won’t bother filing any reports on you two, but for god’s sake, it’s safe to arrest people. There won’t be a sudden outbreak of gunfire as soon as you stick a ticket under someone’s windshield wiper. I don’t think he’s even fired a gun in his life.”

As Karkat laughed to himself, the two officers exchange glances.

“Well it’s not just that,” John mumbled under his breath. “We heard his girlfriend is with him this time.”

“So?”

“Her and her family. They’re getting married this week.”

Karkat feels his stomach drop and looks back up at John. “Who told you that?”

“Jane told me,” Dave muttered, keeping his voice down as if he were trying not to be heard. Karkat’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“And why is this like a big secret being kept from me?”

“Because nobody wants to get shot.” John crossed his arms, his expression defiant and matter-of-fact.

“You’re cops, did you not think of that before you joined the force?” Karkat sighed and opened his top drawer, taking out his phone. “Fine. Stay safe, but as soon as he’s gone, you better get your asses back in gear.”

“We’re just saying,” Dave warned, “that if you were actually out there, you’d be a little hesitant to break out the ticket pad and start dinging someone for overstaying their toll.”

“Yeah, what do you honestly think I do all day? That I just sit on my ass at this desk doing paperwork?”

“Actually, yes,” John quipped, resulting in a snicker from Dave.

“Oh, fuck off, I’m out there most of the day.”

“I don’t know, Egbert, it seems every time we come in here, he’s yelling at someone on the phone rather than filling his own quota.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Karkat said through gritted teeth. “Both of you are fucking insufferable.” They left while rolling their eyes, Karkat flipping through his phone contacts. He wanted desperately to throw his stapler at Dave’s head, but the last time that happened, he missed and hit the chief as he was walking around outside the office. The fucker was good at dodging. He picked someone from his contacts, hesitating before writing a text.

_So I heard you’re having a wedding in town. Is that why my boys are too fucking chickenshit to give people speeding tickets?_

He pursed his lips together before sending the message and set his phone down, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes until Sollux replied. He honestly understood Egbert and Stider’s concerns, but he of all people knew how harmless Sollux was. He could steal billions from the national reserve, but with a gun to his head, he was useless. For as long as he knew him, Sollux was just a bitch with a keyboard.

_yeah forgot to tell you. and sorry about the law’s incompetence, you know how things are._

He rolled his eyes at the reply, furiously typing back.

_Maybe I’ll stop by._


	5. Raid

He had never known Sollux to splurge the way he had that night. He might as well have rented out the entire casino for a private function, but it was only one of the numerous large VIP rooms. It was dark and loud, like any party would be, and from what Eridan could see from the back corner, Sollux looked awkward and out of place amongst the crowd. Of course, it could have been that he was talking to someone who was obviously Aradia’s father. Eridan had to smirk at the humor of the situation, finishing off his third glass of champagne. He sat alone at one of the tables, uninterested in any of the partygoers. He felt ridiculous in his Gamzee-picked attire, and he wasn’t about to mingle with strangers looking like Hugh Hefner. He wasn’t typically much of a party animal anyway.

He caught a glimpse of Eights once and a while, mostly doing the same by sitting alone and drinking, or having the odd brief conversation with someone. He figured they needed some time away from each other after spending the entire day in a car. But Sollux convinced them to come to the party anyway. All he wanted to do was collapse in a hotel bed and sleep. It would have been better if his old partner was with him, but Feferi had ditched him for bigger things. It was going to be hard adjusting to the new girl, having only recently gotten over the broken heart of his previous partner. He didn’t care to think about it.

The song changed to something even more annoying with headache-inducing bass. The light show changed colours to something brighter and more energetic, shining across a familiar face. A woman with layered jet-black hair and a long black and green dress looked over his way. She smiled, the light reflecting off the little rings in her face, making them glitter against her dark lips and pale skin. She walked over to him, strutting in her high heels and sat next to him at his lonely table.

“Funny seeing you here,” the woman said, her voice deep and smooth.

“It’s been a while. How have you been, love?”

Porrim pulls an exhausted face, sneering vaguely in Sollux’s direct. “Doing stupid shit for Yellowbelly. I hear he’s been wanting to recruit you into his idiot plan, did he tell you?”

“Yeah, but, I’m not sure what’s so stupid about it.”

“You haven’t really heard much of it yet, then.” She raises her glass of champagne to her lips, finding it empty. “Or maybe he’s leaving the good work to you, I don’t know. To be honest, you’ll probably just get a lot of wild goose chase work from him. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past month.”

“Why am I not surprised? Whatever, it’s better than getting work form Gamzee.”

“Maybe Sollux can suit you up a little better, too.” Her pierced lips quirk into a smirk and Eridan sighs.

“Thanks for mentioning it.”

“So how’s the new girl? Bitchy and high-maintenance as Angel was?”

Eridan glared at her, only provoking her smirk into a grin. He crossed his arms defensively. “Well, yes, but Fef was never bitchy and high-maintenance to begin with, so I have no idea what you’re talking about. She has potential. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

Porrim nodded, brushing her fingers through her hair. “Oh, I should mention something. You’re not going to like it.”

“What?”

“Your brother wants to see you.”

“Fuck no.” He sighed, slouching in his chair. Those were not words he wanted to hear. He had enough of Cronus texting him twice a year (a simple “Happy Birthday” and “Merry Christmas” on the appropriate days) but seeing him was always an ordeal. They didn’t get along for a long list of reasons. “And may I point out, he’s not my brother.”

“Fine. Half-brother. He’s been working for Sollux as well, he just wants to meet you again before you embark on anything.”

“As long as it’s quick and painless.” He was beginning to wonder exactly what the big deal with Sollux was. Somehow he couldn’t see the operation being so serious his own negligent half-sibling needed to talk to him in person.

“How are you dealing with Feferi?”

“Fine. Don’t see how it’s your business.”

Porrim held up her hands, dropping the question. “Okay, fine, I was just wondering. You seemed lonely.”

“No. The answer to the question I know you were going to ask is no.” He smiled as she leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his waist in a hug. He placed a hand on her shoulder to return it. “It was good seeing you.”

“Yeah. I guess I’ll meet you tomorrow at the wedding.”

She got up from the table, swaying back over to the dance floor. When Eridan looked up to where he last saw Eights, she was gone. He took his phone from his pocket, finding Cronus’ name at the bottom of his contacts list. He thought bitterly before starting to type.

_what the bloody hell do you need me for_

As soon as he hit send, the music shut off, the normal lights flicking on and there was a flourish of panic throughout the room. Cops were streaming in the door, yelling things unintelligible, so he hit the floor. The police held their guns out, everyone following suite by getting under tables, hands in the air. His heart pounding in his ears, he could think of only two ways it was about to play out. Either someone in the room full of criminals would attempt and succeed at negotiating with the officers, or there would be a full-out gunfight. He barely had time to make a guess when he heard the first shot ring out. He reached for the gun in his pocket and began crawling along the wall, trying to remain hidden as more shots were fired above him. He would rather not get involved. He just needed to get out and to the hotel room and-

Shit.

Eights was nowhere to be found. Already on his first day, he had fucked up and gotten a new recruit killed. Fuck. He knew he was assuming the worst, but he never explicitly said to her if shit went down, run. They didn’t have any sort of escape plan if this happened. He was nearly praying she was smart enough to leave. He could see Porrim returning fire from under a bar stool as the room was in chaos. He began to move into the crowd, ducking low, swerving in and out of the mass of bodies, looking for an exit. There weren’t that many cops, which was odd, if it was a drug bust there would typically be more. There were four exits in the room, a door on each wall. He could see the neon lights around the doorframe on the wall in front of him. The other two he could see were heavily crowded with people trying to leave. He fought his way through, gun in hand and prepared to use it. Eventually he forced himself through to the door, leaving the loud sounds of gunfire behind him and bolting down the hallway. He rounded a corner, feet flying below him, adrenaline filling his veins as he searched hastily for the stairs. There was no time for an elevator. The fire escape route would have to do.

He nearly fell down the stairs while trying to get down them, having no idea what floor his room was on. He grabbed the key from his pocket, trying to read the number. 808. He was on the sixtieth floor? Those casinos were massive. He began to slow down form tiredness until he got to the right floor, throwing the door open and jogging down the hall. At last he found the room, slamming his key into the card slot and hearing the lock click. He whipped the door open, coming face to face with the barrel of a dark handgun.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, drawing his own weapon out of instinctual habit. He and Eights stood there for a moment, totally still. The only sound in the room was their panting breath. “Okay, it’s okay, it’s just me.” They lowered their guns, and he could see Eights’ eyes wide and full of fear. He turned around, closing and locking the door. “Alright, let’s calm down.”

Eights was sitting on the end of her bed, arms crossed and toes scrunched up.

“You get caught in the middle of that?”

She looked up at him, nodding quickly, staring back down at the ground.

“Hey, just say something, okay?” He sat down next to her, sticking his gun back in his jacket pocket.

“Fucking Christ,” she breathed, sounding somewhat relieved.

“That’s more like it. That was probably a bit much for your first day, wasn’t it?” He fiddled with his fingers and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. When you make the kind of money you do in this business, it comes with a price.”

She seemed to relax a little bit. She looked up at him curiously, studying his expression. “What’s the worst thing that’s happened to you?”

“Oh... That’s hard to say. I’ve been shot at, sure, got hit once in the shoulder. I’ve been arrested, beaten up, almost got stabbed once. I’m not saying this will happen to you, but-“

“I have to expect it, I know.”

“Do you want to know why Terezi always said the gang wasn’t looking for new recruits? Because we were the whole time.”

“I think I figured it out.”

“She cares about you. She didn’t want you jumping into this without knowing what could happen. For god’s sake, everything we do is illegal. Hell, this thing we’re doing with Sol might just be the crime of the century.”

“You think so? He seems kind of nerdy for that.”

Eridan chuckled and stood up from the bed. “You’re not wrong. I have no idea exactly what he has planned. Just get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow. And then I can go right back to being an ass to you as well.”


End file.
